Merciless: Arranged Marriage Romance

by Esme Devlin

  I text her to let her know I’m here and she comes out a few moments later, dressed all casual in jeans and a t-shirt with a fitted suede biker jacket.

  She jumps in the car and the smell of her fills the space between us. I have absolutely no fucking clue what it is, but it takes me straight back to Saturday night when I had her pressed up against the wall at my party. My cock stirs at the thought of it.

  “What are we doing then?” she asks as she puts on her seatbelt and I pull the car away.

  I shrug. I hadn’t really planned this far ahead. I just knew I wanted to see her. I wanted to hear her voice. “Fancy the beach or something?”

  What a tit. Of all the places in the world and I suggest the one place she probably has the worst memories of me.

  “Sure,” she says, sticking her feet up on the dashboard and leaning back against the door. I look over and chuckle at her, putting my hand on her thigh and giving it a squeeze.

  We get to the beach and since neither of us know what we’re supposed to do, we just walk. The carnival is gone now, packed up and on to the next location, and the place feels calmer. Even the sea looks gentle, the waves lapping at the wet sand in the distance instead of crashing against it.

  “I never imagined you doing stuff like this,” she says, as I take her hand and lace her fingers through mine.

  “What, walking?”

  She looks up at me and rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Romantic strolls along the promenade and shit.”

  I laugh at her and look over at the bin, overflowing with empty fish and chip boxes and being attacked by about forty fucking seagulls. “You call this romantic?”

  “You know what I mean!” she says, taking our linked hands and slamming me in the stomach with them.

  I shrug her off. “Never felt the need to do it before, but I don’t hate it. I like being outside. I prefer being outside to inside.”

  “Me too,” she says.

  I realize that for all our fucking and fighting, and as much as I’ve known her for years… I barely even know her. I know what makes her tick and I know how to get a reaction from her. I know she looks like a typical girly pretty girl because I used to give her shit for acting like a boy. I probably know things that other people close to her wouldn’t know… but I don’t know what she likes. I don’t know what makes her happy, other than some ridiculous notion of freedom.

  And I’m not saying freedom is ridiculous because it’s not. It’s why I like being outside. It’s why even with all the money, the big house, the nice cars, I would still rather have our old way of life. The life where we woke up every morning in a different place.

  Being free isn’t ridiculous; it’s her idea of being free that is. Like working long hours in a low-paid job and struggling to pay bills and having no friends is aspirational, just because it means she’s “free”. That’s not being free to me. Freedom is being outside with Fallacy, leaving the house in the morning with lunch in my bag and having not a fucking clue where I’ll end up.

  You have to find your own ways of feeling like that, in the life you’ve been given.

  “We should have brought Dollar,” I tell her.

  She chuckles. “So she can snub me again and be all over you?”

  Her face screws up and I start laughing. “It’s not you, darlin. It’s me. The gypsy dog whisperer.”

  “You don’t have a dog?”

  I shake my head. “I always wanted one growing up but my da’ always said no. Never had the time for it, I used to work in the stables all weekend and when I wasn’t working, I was teaching myself to ride. When I wasn’t doing that, I was out with my friends.”

  She nods. “I always wanted a horse, but my dad said the same thing. I could have anything I wanted, but not if the price was time. Do you still work in the stables?”

  I glance down at her, feeling like I’m being interviewed. “Sometimes, but not because I’m made to, like when I was younger. I just like it there.”

  “Why?”

  I shrug. “Horses are better than people.”

  She laughs at that. “I think the same about dogs.”

  We walk for a few moments in silence and it’s easy. It’s not a nervous silence or an awkward silence. It’s just nice, listening to the waves in the distance, and even the bastard squawking seagulls.

  “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

  I look down at her. “Am I not already grown up?” I laugh. “Could have sworn I was when you were screaming my name the other night.”

  She giggles and gives me another tap on the stomach. “You know what I mean.”

  “I’m going to work for my dad,” I tell her.

  “I know what you need to do, but what do you want to do? If you could do anything?”

  I think about it for a minute because it’s not something I’ve ever considered before. There’s never been an option, and I don’t see the point in spending time thinking about things when I don’t have any choice. “I’d probably work for my dad.”

  She looks up at me, like I’ve just announced I want to pull the tails off puppies or something. “Really? You wouldn’t do something with horses, or something outside? Something you’d actually enjoy?”

  I shrug at her. “Why? I don’t understand this obsession with doing something you enjoy. You go to work to live. It’s not something that needs to fulfill you or make your soul sing. I’d rather do a job for 8 hours and come home to the stuff I enjoy… not the other way around.”

  She thinks about it for a minute. “I see your point, but I don’t think I agree with you.”

  I shrug. “You don’t have to. I’ll be good at it, and it pays well, and I don’t hate it. It’s numbers mostly, and like animals, I like numbers more than I like people.”

  She laughs at that and rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t reply.

  We have another few moments of silence before I clear my throat. “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she says. “I used to want to be a vet, because I thought it was something I would enjoy.”

  “Why don’t you do it then?”

  She turns around and glares at me for a second. “It’s never been on the cards for me.”

  “Why not?” I sense her tensing beside me and it’s like I’ve poked a sensitive spot for her. Then I realize it’s because of me. “You don’t need to answer that,” I tell her.

  “Good,” she says.

  We walk along for a few more minutes and this time; the silence is awkward. She’s never had a dream or a plan for her future because it’s always been about running, about escaping.

  From me.

  There’s a few times in my life I’ve felt like a cunt. A villain. A bastard rascal.

  But I’ve never felt like a bigger monster than I do right now.

  “Michelle, if you want to be a vet, then you should be a vet.”

  She doesn’t look up at me, she looks over at the shore. The wind is whipping her hair a little and her face is sad, and I don’t know why. Maybe she’s spent her whole life thinking she couldn’t do the things she wanted, but that’s not the case. I’ll give her whatever she wants. If she wants to stay at home all day she can, if she wants to be a vet, she can be a vet. I want children; I make no secret of that. I want a fucking house full. But so what? I’ll get a nanny. A team of nannies if that means she’d be happier about it.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask her.

  “Nothing. Can we go home now?”

  Chapter 20

  MICHELLE

  I had to leave.

  I had to leave because if I had processed the words that came out of his mouth, it could have changed everything. Ten years of believing he was the enemy. Ten years of thinking Tommy Heenan was the only thing that stood in the way of me and my dreams.

  No.

  I can’t let myself be tempted to believe that. I can’t let myself start wondering what if? Tommy Heenan is a bullet, and I am dodging it. He’ll ruin my life, like
him and his father and my father have done for the last ten years. Ten years of not letting myself dream. Ten years of not letting myself trust anyone. Ten years of knowing you can be sold for cheap, dirty diamonds.

  And that’s why I made him take me back to Lawrie’s house. That’s why I’m sitting in my car right now, with a change of clothes in the boot, outside Kieran Townsley’s house.

  Kieran text me a few hours ago to tell me there was a problem, and it was going to take a little longer than he had anticipated. I no longer give a fuck about cash, or jewelry, or having enough money to find a place. I’ll move around. I’ll never stay longer than a night in the same place. I’ll find a way of making money, until I can disappear for good.

  I’ve text him telling him I’m outside. I’ll take whatever he managed to get and sell it myself on the way.

  He comes out of the house and gets in the car. He doesn’t have a bag with him.

  “Where’s the stuff?” I ask him. I try not to be too demanding. I know he did this for me and I know I should be grateful, but I didn’t ask him to do it. I never put a gun to his head. He said he wanted to, and now I want what he stole from my father. What is rightfully mine.

  “Michelle I didn’t take diamonds, or cash, or jewelry,” he says, his eyes fixed on something in the street in front of us.

  “What do you mean? You said you did?”

  Why would he lie about that?

  He lifts his head while he shakes it and then turns around to face me. “I didn’t say I did. I said I had enough to ensure you’d never need to marry him… and you don’t. You won’t have to. The guy who was coming today couldn’t make it, something came up, but he’s going to come on Monday. You just have to hold on for one more weekend and then things will start moving. I promise.”

  What the fuck is he talking about? If he didn’t take any money or diamonds, what is he selling? What is this guy buying?

  “Kieran, I have no idea what you’re talking about?” I’m trying to stay patient with him. I’m trying to remind myself he didn’t have to do this, but God it’s difficult. “Please, explain what’s going on?”

  “I’m going to shine the light on their whole dirty operation, Shelly. I have all the evidence I need. I wasn’t taking cash or diamonds. I was taking paperwork. Paperwork that will put them all away for a very long time — once it gets out. They can’t force you to do anything from a jail cell.”

  He looks at me like he’s telling me he’s just won a fucking watch. What has he done?

  “Kieran, no. I don’t want that. I don’t want them all in prison for fuck's sake! I just want to get away?”

  He shakes his head at me. “I was worried you would react like this. You want to protect them, that’s understandable… he is your father. That’s why I wasn’t going to tell you. This is the best way. Maybe you can’t see it now, but you’ll see it soon. One day you’re going to thank me. This way, you don’t have to leave. This way you can stay.”

  I’m not going to fucking thank him. As much as I hate my dad for what he’s done, he’s still my father. He did what he thought was best at the time. And even if I could put my father in prison, that’s my choice to make.

  Not Kieran fucking Townsley’s.

  “Kieran, I said no. It’s not happening. I won’t do it. Give me back whatever you took and just forget about the whole thing.”

  He looks at me right in the eyes. “No.”

  Why the fuck is he being like this? “What do you mean, no?”

  “I mean no. The guy is coming from a national newspaper, do you have any idea how often an opportunity like this comes along? They’re criminals, for fuck's sake Michelle. They’re criminals and they’re forcing you to be a part of it.”

  My mouth hangs open as all the pieces click into place. This was never about me or helping me.

  This was about him and his fucking newsletter. Except he has his sights on the big picture now. He’s bored with writing about who won the fucking spelling bee, and now he wants to fast track himself an internship at one of the big dishrag newspapers.

  Not with my family. Not with my dirty laundry.

  “I’m not going to tell you again. Give. It. Back.”

  He looks at me and I swear there is a hint of a smirk in his eyes. “No.”

  Opening the door of the car, he gets out into the cold night and hesitates for a second. “It’s for the best. We both know it. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

  And then he shuts the door and walks away, back up the driveway to his house.

  I sit in the car, my thoughts reeling too much to form a cohesive plan. What the hell is the point in making a plan, anyway? They all just seem to go to shit the second I try to set them in motion.

  But I can’t let this happen.

  They’ll all go down and they’ll all know it was me who did it. My mum, was she involved? If she was, she’ll go down with them. If she wasn’t, she’ll drag me down for ruining her source of happiness. We’ll lose everything. Tommy will lose everything.

  Will Tommy go to prison, too?

  And it’s not just about who will and won’t go to prison. He’s not slipping the files to our local friendly police officer and letting them deal with it. He’s going to the press. We’re all going to be dragged through the gutter, our name smeared on every front page from here to John o’ Groats.

  I shove my trainers on, get out of the car and slam the door. I don’t need a plan; I need to get those papers back.

  I storm up the drive and start hammering on his door. It’s midnight, I’m ringing the bell and chapping the letterbox like I’m insane and I don’t give a single solitary fuck.

  A woman opens the door, her housecoat wrapped tightly around her thick frame and her face frowning.

  “Where is Kieran?” I don’t give her a second to answer, I’m already barging past her, her dumbfounded shrieks of excuse me floating down the hall towards me. I take the dark stairs two at a time. “Kieran?!” I don’t know which room is his. “Kieran?!” I shout this time, louder.

  The door at the far end of the hall creaks open, flickering light from a television seeping out behind it.

  “Go home, Michelle. Go home right now or else I get in my car and take it to the nearest police station.”

  “No. I don’t want you to get hurt, Kieran, but we both know that’s what will happen.”

  He laughs. The little tech geek Kieran Townsley, sweet little Kieran Townsley with the pretty face and the ruffled hair laughs right in my face.

  “We both know that’s not going to happen. You’re not going to tell your dad, and you’re certainly not going to tell Tommy. He would rip you into pieces before he ever came to get me. And after he’d finished with the both of us, he’d stick a ring on your smashed up finger and make you pay every day, for the rest of your sorry little life.”

  I swallow. I swallow because I don’t know what else to do, and it’s the only distraction from the chill that runs down my spine at his words.

  I’ve betrayed him. Not only that, I did it with my legs spread while I asked him about his dreams.

  I turn around and I get out of the house before I throw up. I’m shaking, my knees feel weak and I am entirely convinced I’m going to vomit.

  What the fuck have I done.

  And more importantly, what the fuck do I do now.

  Chapter 21

  TOMMY

  It’s been hours since I left her and I’m still confused over it. I don’t understand her. It’s like every time we make some progress, she shuts off completely and we’re right back to where we started.

  It’s like she just doesn’t want to hear it.

  Maybe it’s too hard a pill to swallow, knowing that the thing she’s been fighting for her whole life is wrong. The thing she’s been fighting for lies with me, the very thing she thought she was fighting against. I don’t know. I have no answers. My plan is just to give her space, like I’ve been doing, and hope that she comes around before the wedd
ing in a couple of week’s time.

  Since it’s the only one we’re ever going to get, it would be nice if she actually enjoyed it and wasn’t plotting her next jump off the pier.

  I lie in bed, fucking about on my phone and making plans with the group chat for tomorrow night.

  Screw sitting in my room alone again. I had hoped she would have bumped Lawrie’s for dinner once we were out, but that backfired majorly… and by the time I dropped her off and drove home I was in too foul a mood to go back out again.

  So I decided on an early night and an early rise.

  I like them better anyway.

  I stick my phone down the bed between the frame and the mattress and turn over, trying to get to sleep without thinking about the little demon with the dark eyes who makes me feel shit I have no business feeling.

  It was never supposed to be about feelings.

  I’ve never had feelings before, not for anyone. And I never imagined I was the sort of person to get them.

  A knock on the door halts my thoughts and I sit up in bed. There’s another knock, this one slightly louder, so I get up and stick a pair of shorts on before answering the door. Wouldn’t want to scare the housekeeper, since that’s the only person I think it could be at this time of night.

  I open the door and the hall outside is dark, but I don’t need light to show me who it is. I can smell her.

  “Shelly?”

  She doesn’t say a word, just barges right by me and walks into my bedroom.

  “I need to speak to you,” she says. Her voice is hoarse, like she’s been upset. I go to turn the lights on but she must hear me because she tells me to leave it before I get there.

  “What’s wrong?” My thoughts start racing, dark places they shouldn’t be going. Has someone hurt her? Who hurt her? I wish she would spit it out. “Michelle?”

  “I’ve fucked up, Tommy. I’ve seriously fucked up and I don’t know what to do…” Her voice trails off. I want to turn the fucking light on and see her face.

  Is she worried?

  Has she been crying?